


Hawkes Heart

by WritingTrashIsAHobby



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Purple Hawke, Rival Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 10:00:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17558270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingTrashIsAHobby/pseuds/WritingTrashIsAHobby
Summary: Fenris didn't want to love her.She was everything he hated.Humorous bloodmage Hawkes rivalmance as seen through the eyes of a particularly angry, violent, broody elf.





	1. Romance

He asks for a distraction, for the hunters. 

He did not ask for a kamikaze of chaos to dive into his life. Yet, here she was.

He wants to know what manner of mage she is, and he quickly learns she is the evasive kind.

"You want me to just tell you and spoil all the fun?" She teases.

Hawke flirts. She uses her bright blue eyes and dazzling smile to distract people away from what she really is.

It even works on him, at first.

It's the way she says things that makes her so charming, she is perfectly aware that her words are ridiculous, she wants them to be. She will go out of her way to be the most ridiculous one in the room because Hawke seems to think life is one big joke.

She tells him removing his skin would be a waste of a perfectly handsome elf and he catches himself giggling. The silly way she winks at him after saying it is what did it, what triggers his laughter. She so easily disarms him, with only words and expressions.

She comes to visit him in Danarius' mansion.

She brings with her that playful grin.

She askes unexpected questions and makes him uncomfortable. His druken rage filled outburst doesn't seem to suprise or bother her in the slightest, even when he smashes a bottle of wine against the wall she just grins and cracks a joke about redecorating.

He wants to know more about her. Will she ever return to Ferelden? She doesn't know, she doesn't care, she doesn't think about it.

"You survive and move on. What else could you want?" She asks.

It's a rare moment where her careless smile falters, her bright eyes lose luster for a second as she speaks.

It's clear to him then that she has resigned herself to this existence. Hawke has accepted that she will always be hunted for what she is.

"Something different. So should you." He tells her.

His words are rough, for some reason he wants her to want more. Then he remembers, it is not his place to tell her how to live and that no one should have that right.

"I apologize. Your life is your own, it simply sounds familiar." He tells her.

Fenris accepts that he has far more in common with this mage than he would have expected, more than he would have liked.

In the heartbeat of silence between them he sees the light in her eyes grow brighter than he had seen them before.

"Does that mean you'll stay around?" She asks.

"Perhaps." He tells her.

"Oh good. I have some shenanigans planned and I think you could be quite helpful."

"Shenanigans?" The word is dry on his lips, arid as it hits the air.

"A deep roads expedition." She tells him, parting the air with her hands, palms open. A grand gesture to emphasize the magnanimity of her scheme.

"And you would want my help? Why?" He questions.

She is already standing, moving towards the door.

"You're skilled, you're devastatingly handsome, and you _glow_. Torches go out, we just light you up." She says.

Her compliments aren't lost on him. He likes that she finds him handsome, because he finds her beautiful.

He agrees to go with her to meet the other members of the expedition.

He is curious about what manner of company this mage keeps. Does she have powerful friends in high places to put her closer to her own selfish goals? Is she like Denarious in that fashion? Would she use his presence to frighten them?

He learns quickly that the answer to all of his questions is no. Her friends are not the kind of people that someone would use to manipulate themselves into a position of power. No, these people will not help her become more influencial or feared. They're a group of drunkards gathering at the Hanged Man. They spend more time mocking him than fearing him.

The friendship Hawke inspires is comforting.

There is safety in numbers, and her company is not insufferable.

Not until _he_ walks in.

The man that jogs up behind Hawke and tickles her sides playfully. Hawke is suprised by the attack and spits her beer out. Like a fountain, the frothy liquid comes out in a stream and paints the table, spattering a bit of moisture on Fenris' hand that he he wipes on his trousers. 

Anders tries to be friendly to him, its already to late for that. 

Within minutes Fenris is scowling at them both. The easy banter was grating to see but its the shared passion they have concerning the plight of the mages that _really_ pisses him off.

"I don't get the name. Do they hang men here?" Fenris asks Hawke. Anything to change the fucking subject. 

"If you're hung, you're drunk, I think." Anders answers for her.

Fenris doesn't like that he does that. Hawke was perfectly capable of speaking for herself, and she had been the one he addressed. 

"Actually, they did hang men here, by their feet, until they starved, Blondie." Varric informs him. 

Fenris feels a laugh in his throat and people are looking at him like he is deranged.

Everyone but Hawke looks at him this way, she is grinning expectantly, waiting to hear what he found so funny.

"Good thing they were drunk then." Fenris says.

His ears are gifted with Hawke bubbling over with laughter. His dark humor was not lost on her, and he doesn't think the jab at Anders was either. 


	2. Disillusionment

There is this pleased little smile on Hawkes face when he finally puts together what the stripe of red paint across the bridge of her nose means.

She doesn't just perform blood magic, she is a blood mage through and through. Every time she is wounded, her blood strengthens her magic. Each time she falls an enemy their blood makes _her_ stronger. Hawke doesn't just practice blood magic, she plays with it as well as her life while she is in battle. Her method is subtle, so subtle that it just looks like she's attacking with a halberd. 

He speaks of it and she laughs. She _laughs_ about him confronting her about her blood magic, about what that paint on her face means. 

"It's not always paint, Fenris." She tells him. "Sometimes it's jam."

She baits his rage and then mocks it with her humor. No where in her eyes does he ever see the slightest bit of fear, no concern that he might rip her heart out because Hawke isnt afraid of death. Hawke isn't afraid of anything.

Not even the templars scare her. She walks right into their territory, the bright red stripe on her face is there as a dare. She's daring him to turn her in, she is daring the templars to catch her. 

He eyes the templars, concerned for her safety, he asks her if she should be here, if its wise. Fenris warns her, he shouldn't, if anything he should be telling them what she is, but he doesn't even consider it.

Hawke doesn't belong in a cage. Hawke wouldn't survive it. They would make jer tranquil before the sun sets. 

"Oh, who's going to notice little ol me." She grins, and waltzes right up to the Knight Captain.

Her confidence is her real armor and it is blinding. She ends up catching other bloodmages for the Templars. He asks her why she does that and her answer is simple, they pay her and abominations are ugly. 

She takes a blade to the side one night and laughs the entire time he is carrying her. He doesn't know if she is laughing at the pain or blood or death itself. He doesn't know why she is laughing at all, but the sound comforts him as he carries her. As long as she is laughing she is breathing. 

He wants to hate her.

He tells himself that he does.

Still he goes with her into the deep roads.

Carver and Anders go as well.

Each day Carver tells Anders and Hawke to shut up about mage injustice. To take their plight and stuff it. Fenris does the same.

They essentially form teams while they are in the deep roads. Mages vs. Reason.

It happens. Darkspawn.

When Carver gets sick, Fenris learns that Hawke is afraid of something. Her fear isn't shown with tears or soft words, her jokes remain, but he can see it in her white knuckles as she helps her brother walk, in the way she tells him that if he dies, she'll kill him. 

Anders saves the day and when Carver is taken by the Wardens it's the abominations arms she throws herself into. She hugs him and squashes the sides of his face together with her palms. She tells him he is her best friend and just when Fenris sees Anders face go serious, when he is positive the abomination is about to confess his undying love. Hawke licks the side of his face and barks. 

"You're absolutely insane, you know that?" The abomination asks, wiping his face with his sleeve. 

Hawke is already walking away, she lets out a ridiculous series of dog like barks and one long howl. 

They return without Carver and Anders tries to get her to talk about it, but she's maneuvers around it.

"How long do you think before the Wardens get sick of the little tit and send him back? Days? Weeks?" She jokes. 

The fear is gone from her eyes. Her brother is alive. All that matters to Hawke is keeping her family safe, those that were predetermined by blood and those she sits with at the Hanged man now. 

He has to remind himself that she is everything he despises, but he always forgets when they share a joke. 

Danarius' mansion provides a very good view of Hawkes estate. It isn't the estate he watches at night through the windows, its her. 


	3. Power

Despite himself, he wants her. He wants to struggle with her and battle physically the way they do with words.

His frustrations are often taken out on Danarius' mansion but destruction of property only goes so far, and only enhances his excitement. It leads him to imaginings of a real fight between them, words and things being thrown freely. Eventually the aching becomes too much, and he relieves himself with his own hand.

He pictures her face, all humor lost as she struggles beneath him, fights to escape his hold. It's dark and wrong and he wants it. He wants her, he wants to dominate this woman he obsesses over and hear her cry out his name like he is her master. That last thought is what he spends himself to.

After, Fenris drinks and stares out of his window and into hers. In the moonlight he can see her sleeping, she is spread out in her bed, her pale legs tangled in her sheets. Excitement begins building up in him again and he smacks wine bottles off of the window ledge.

He hears them shatter to the floor but doesn't take his eyes off of her form.

Fenris admits to himself that he lusts for her in a terrible fashion while the abomination loves her in a tender way.

Fenris fucking hates him, for many reasons, but most of all that there is a softness in Hawke that the mage has unlocked and gets to take comfort in. Fenris knows he himself will never come close to that tenderness within her. He hates the way she and the mage talk, so understanding, so passionate, so in sync. He hates the way the abomination and she look at eachother with comfortable familiarity as they joke.

Most of all he hates that the Abomination tries to go talk to her after what happened to her mother.

He hates the moment of understanding he shares with Anders, when Hawke uses bloodmagic to find her mother and neither of them say a word about it, because they understand the severity of the situation, because they know how much Leandra means to Hawke.

Fenris isn't really thinking when he shoves the mage out of his way and proceeds to storm into Hawkes room. He is functioning on a raw basic instinct to be at her side. It isn't until he slams the door in Anders face that he recognizes what he has done. He has sealed himself in a room with Hawke and has no idea what to do, no idea how to comfort her.

A terrible knowing strikes him in the face when he looks at her.

Hawke isn't Hawke now. She's Marian. There is no confident armor around her, no over exaggerated hyper active gesturing. She is small, and broken and weak. When he looks into her bright blue eyes he sees the fight in her is gone, the will to survive is lost. He could break her, and it frightens him.

She says nothing, she only blinks at him. Waiting for the killing blow, waiting for him to ask her what she thinks of magic now.

There is still no fear in her eyes, only anticipation. She expects him to say it, she wants him to say it, to hurt her. She feels like she deserves it for failing to protect her mother.

Fenris wants to hold her, to wrap his arms around her and turn his back to whatever pain she is feeling. To grip her tightly and suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous misfortune the world keeps assaulting her with. He wants to protect her, not harm her.

"I do not know what to say, but I am here." He announces.

It looks like she is trying to come up with a joke, something, anything to offer him, to make him more comfortable. To make him at ease in the moment, because that's what she does for him whenever things become to tense, whenever he becomes too consumed with hatred. The moment stretches on, she is trying so hard to grip for something, something to let him know she wants him here with her. She doesn't want to be alone.

"I don't know what to say either." She chokes finally, more tears rolling from her red swollen eyes.

She has nothing to give, but Fenris does.

"We don't have to say anything." He tells her, sitting beside her and placing his arm on her back.

The soft touch breaks her. She crumples against him, her face presses into his chest.

This is the night Hawke rips his heart out. She stays in his arms, she cries herself to sleep.

When Varric finally comes in to check on them, he catches Fenris cradling her sleeping form in his lap, tucking her dark hair behind her ear.

"She's alright. Fenris has her." He hears the dwarf say softly before the door closes.

Those words hit him hard and he takes pride in them. He has her, she is alright.

Fenris doesn't sleep that night, he just holds her. Absorbing every moment of this cursed tenderness he can.

When her lyrium blue eyes open in the morning and fix on him, they are suprised.

"Good morning handsome." She says, her eyes are bloodshot and tired, but her humor has returned for a moment. "What's a man like you doing in a place like this?"

"You were too heavy to move off of me." He states.

"So that's how I get you to stick around. I sit on you."

Later she jokes about slitting her wrists and dancing naked under the moonlight, all the while while holding her wrists above her head and wiggling her hips.

The way she is shaped tortures him, the heavy breasts and narrow waist, the wide curve of her hips. He remembers the night he held her, the way the weight of her felt in his arms.

He watches her and Isabella get drunk and dance closely with eachother. He feels like they do it on purpose, to taunt him and any other man who would be caught staring too long.

Hawke is drinking more now. She drinks away the losses she has endured. When she gets drunk she gets wild. Over many nights he watches her kiss everyone, Isabella, Merril, Aveline. She grabs them by the collar or neck or shoulders and takes their mouth with hers, swirling her tongue over their teeth and into their mouths. Even Varric is left gasping when she is done with him one night, after she leaps away from them and declares "not what I'm looking for!'

When she does it to Anders, the mage tries to pull her back into his lap saying 'look again.' She only laughs and pushes his face away.

She never kisses Fenris. Not once. She doesn't even try and it infuriates him. 

She comes close to it. One night she kicks his chair back and sits on his lap. He can't take his eyes of of her. She is looking at him like she sees something, a hidden piece of him and that makes her frown this exaggerated perfect frown. He thinks about kissing her. Grabbing her and showing her that what she is looking for is right here in front of her, but he doesn't. His past life left him with more than just the marks on his skin, Danarius has left marks on his soul as well, ones that may never heal, ones that have left him with an aversion to touch. She uses her thumb to flick his lower lip down once before stumbling off of him. He feels the lyrium respond to her power and send a pale blue glow, like a wave down his body. She toyed with his markings, but it did not harm him, it did not burn, it tickled. 

Hawke is like no other mage, he knows that now. He wants her more than ever and her unwillingness to kiss him hurts. She shouldn't have that power over him, no one should, he was free. 

He goes to her later that night. Enraged, drunk, shouting. She cracks jokes and he storms out, his blood boiling.

Hawke has stopped the kissing game now. Her new game is to drink and stare at him.

He plays it with her.


End file.
